Hospital. It was the very last place she wanted to be.

“Can I get you anything, Gran? A glass of water? Something to eat? I could pop to the shop and see if there’s any of that salted caramel chocolate you like?”

Audrey shook her head. It felt as though someone must have filled it with lead while she was unconscious.

“You need to eat something, Mum. I know it’s hard when you feel nauseous, but you’ll get terribly weak if your blood sugar’s too low.”

Audrey’s hand moved instinctively to her stomach. It felt permanently bloated in spite of its emptiness, as though someone had blown up a balloon and put it inside her when she wasn’t looking. The last thing she wanted was food.

“Come on—we must be able to get you something.”

Audrey remained silent, knowing that the only thing she wanted was the one thing no one could give her. She thought about all those hours she had wasted over the years: the boring TV shows she’d watched, the depressing newspaper articles she’d read, the friendships she’d allowed to run miles beyond their course. All those days she’d pottered through life as though she had all the time in the world.

“You have to eat, Mum. Come on. There must be something you fancy.”

Audrey shook her head again. As she lay under the stiff white hospital sheets, beneath the fluorescent glare of strip lighting and the watchful gaze of her family, she suddenly realized that she’d become the very thing she dreaded: a patient, not a person.

Lily squeezed her hand as if Audrey were a child in need of gentle encouragement, and Audrey suddenly understood that it wasn’t death she feared so much as the process of dying.

“I should let Jess know I’m here. She’ll be worried if she gets home and I’m not there.”

At the mention of Jess’s name, Audrey felt the atmosphere thicken. Lily stood up and began tucking in sheets that hadn’t come loose, then rearranged the jug of water and plastic cup on the bedside cabinet that were in no need of tidying. Audrey glanced at Phoebe in time to catch her granddaughter’s raised eyebrows and almost imperceptible nod.

Audrey’s thoughts scrambled toward an understanding. Of course Phoebe would have told Mia, and Mia would have told Jess. Which meant that Jess might be on her way to the hospital right now.

Audrey pulled herself up to a sitting position, her head sluggish, her pulse throbbing. For years she had hoped for another meeting between her daughters but not in these circumstances, not in this location. As she tried to imagine the scene that might unfold should Jess arrive, she was hit by a new wave of nausea that rose up through her chest and hung, suspended, in her throat.

“Why don’t I find a doctor, Mum, and ask when they might have the results of your tests?”

Audrey was about to agree when the cubicle curtain swished back and there, standing on the threshold, was Mia.